


she will come for you...

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [73]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 15:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Imagine what we could have seen at the seals' isle in 03x03...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/165901083475/she-will-come-for-you) on tumblr

Stroke.

Stroke.

Salt stinging the still-healing wounds on his wrists, crusting in his eyes.

Cold penetrating his bones.

Feet kicking madly, praying for purchase.

Two dark lumps barked from the rocky shore.

Duncan’s paper-thin voice rasped in his ears.

*Folk do say as how Ellen MacKenzie did leave her brothers and her home, and go to wed with a silkie from the sea. She heard them, aye?*

Ellen’s sole surviving son heard them now.

A wave crashed over his head – and Jamie flailed, spluttering –

There. Rocks beneath his feet.

Slowly, slowly up the spit and onto the beach. Feeling two hundred years older than when he had dived in.

Intent on the tower Dougal had shown him as a lad.

Where the gold lay waiting, guarded by the white witch.

Step by aching step. Rocks skittering toward the water. The seals looked up, watched him pass, and returned to their piles of shellfish.

Where the pebbles turned to dirt and knee-high grass, he turned. Watched the cliffs, wind cutting his cheeks and sluicing through his clothes. Wishing harder than at any moment in his life to be home, in his bed, with his wife.

*Lord, that she may be safe.* His right hand darted to cover his heart, fingers curling in the cold, feeling his shoes fall apart as he stepped into the grass. *She and the child.*

Up to the base of his mother’s tower – a ruined thing, half caved-in, built untold centuries earlier by foolishly optimistic monks. Where he and Dougal and Rupert had passed a very cold night when he was fifteen.

Smoke.

Jamie’s hand instantly darted to his belt, for the dirk that had not been there for three years.

Fish. Someone was here, roasting fish.

His mouth watered – and he didna care whether friend or foe. Today he was here to end this – whatever this was.

Strength surged through his limbs – shaking with fatigue and cold – and he darted around the side, toward the door –

And into the main part of the tower, where miraculously the roof had not yet caved in. Light streamed through the empty windows, illuminating a man hunched over a roaring fire, turning over and over a long stick speared with five fat fish.

He must have made a sound – for the man dropped the fish, and lowered the hood of his cloak.

It was not a man.

It was a woman.

Brown curls exploding around her face. Whisky eyes shining with tears. A long, elegant hand wearing an iron ring flew to her mouth, failing to choke back a sob.

Jamie opened his mouth, but had lost his voice.

He fell to his knees, reaching for her, body beginning to fail.

Her voice – her beautiful, beautiful voice – surrounding him as he slipped away.

“Jamie! Stay with me, you bloody Scot. Don’t leave me now, not after everything – don’t leave me…”

—

Jamie stirred awake, shutting his eyes against the sunlight, tightening his grip around Claire’s waist, snuffling into her neck.

Any minute now he’d hear Mrs. Crook calling them for breakfast…

“Mama?”

He opened his eyes – to find Claire watching him, so beautiful in the firelight. She pulled out of his arms – and away from their nest of blankets and cloaks.

He blinked, finding himself, taking stock.

Twilight outside. Somehow he had lost his clothes, and someone had given him new, loose breeches and a pair of itchy woolen socks. And bandaged the sores on his wrists, re-opened during the swim.

“Mama,” the voice repeated. “Is he awake?”

Slowly, gasping, he eased up on one elbow. Scanning for Claire in the half-dark –

Ah. There she was, just on the other side of the fire.

She wasn’t alone – there was a girl. Eight, nine perhaps. And the spitting image of his mother.

“Claire,” he croaked, throat absolutely dry. “I – Claire – ”

And then they were both there, Claire sitting behind him, leaning him against her – the girl bringing a waterskin to his lips.

He watched her with terrified eyes.

Put down the waterskin – and reached out a hand to trace her face.

Miracle of miracles.

She was so perfect.

“*Ciamar a tha thu, mo nighean ruaidh?*” he whispered.

She smiled shyly. He cupped her cheek.

“I don’t speak Gaelic.” Her accent was strange – flat, a bit nasal. Like nothing he had ever heard.

He swallowed. Feeling Claire’s hands run down his arm, twining their fingers together. “It means – ”

“-But I’m willing to learn, if you’ll teach me?”

She grinned now, and his heart cracked wide open.

“Aye,” he swallowed, tears spilling. “Aye. I’d love that.”

Then she threw her wee arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“I’m Brianna,” she whispered. “Your daughter.”

Jamie wrapped his free arm around his lass, the fingers of his other hand squeezing Claire’s almost desperately.

“I’m your Da,” he sobbed. “God be praised, Brianna. I’m your Da.”

—

Much later – long past dark. Brianna lay just beside them, curled up in her own nest of blankets.

But Jamie couldn’t tear his eyes from Claire’s face – so close to his as they shared kiss after kiss after sweet kiss.

“How?” he breathed against her lips, tangling his legs with hers under the blankets. Feeling so alive.

She ran her nose against the stubble of his chin, breathing him in.

“Which part? Going through the stones? Finding Duncan? Getting here?”

He kissed her clavicle, so bonny above the neck of her shift. “Everything.”

“We’re safe here – you should know that. Nobody will come looking for you.”

He pulled back just a little. Eyes boring into hers. “Nothing on earth can part me from ye now. S-Sassenach.”

His voice broke, and her chin trembled, and she drew him into a long, long kiss.

After a bit, she left their bed to fetch some bread and apples.

“I’ll tell you how,” she said softly, mindful of their daughter sleeping peacefully. “But you must eat while I tell you.”

He grumbled but sat up, crossed his legs – knees touching hers – and listened raptly to her tale.

It was difficult to focus on so much – to convince himself he was not dreaming, cold and alone in the cave or in prison.

Frank Randall had found him – found evidence of his being at Ardsmuir, anyway. Hadn’t told Claire – she had found the papers while looking for something for Brianna. She had confronted him – and left for Scotland a week later.

“I hope you don’t think me irresponsible, for bringing her with me. But I couldn’t leave her, Jamie. I couldn’t risk – ”

“Sshh,” he soothed, gently rubbing her leg. “Ye did right. We are together, now, because of you.”

They had gone to Lallybroch first – and Jenny had put her in touch with some of the MacKenzies who survived Culloden. And one man suggested Duncan Kerr.

Jamie set down the core of the apple. “You knew exactly how to find me. How to bring me to ye.”

She sighed. “I didn’t. I took a gamble, is all. There were so many things that had to fall into place…”

He bent over, tilting up her chin to face him. “Dinna drive yerself mad. It did. It all did. And for the third time, Claire Fraser, ye have rescued me from prison.”

Outside the waves lapped at the rocky shore. The seals called to each other – the gulls cried – the wind whistled in through the high, bare windows.

“There’s a man coming tomorrow night. He’ll bring his boat, and take us back to shore.” Claire settled back down in their nest, leaning on one elbow, nipples puckered in the chill. Jamie swallowed.

“And where then?” He lay on his side, back to the fire, and gathered his wife close.

“Ireland. It’s not too far, and they won’t know us there. We can start over, the three of us.”

Jamie nuzzled against her cheek. “We can live under our real names.”

She nodded against him. “Yes. So many Scots left for Ireland after the Rising – we’ll find a home there. We’ll make one.”

“I’ll see to it. And wi’ the gold, we can do anything, aye?”

She smiled. “It’s over there in the corner – we won’t want for anything.”

He kissed her brow, so gentle.

“Mama?”

Claire drew up a bit – to see Brianna sitting up in her bedroll, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

“Come here, love,” she said, so gently. “Come here.”

Quietly Brianna padded towards her parents, hesitated, then slipped between them.

Jamie laid his arm across Brianna’s side, his hand cupping Claire’s back. Brianna’s small back settled against his chest. Claire’s face edged closer, resting her forehead against his.

“Lord, keep our family safe,” he breathed, voice thick with feeling. “Keep us safe from violence, and harm. On this night, and on every night…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/167557921953/she-will-come-for-youii) on tumblr

Seals. Greeting the new day – or each other – loudly.

Claire shifted a bit in her bedroll, bringing Brianna closer.

That scent…

Her eyes flew open – to see Jamie watching her.

She gasped.

Carefully, reverently he reached across Brianna’s sleeping form to cradle his wife’s cheek.

“I’m here…you’re here…”

Voice full of so much wonder.

“I could watch you for hours, Sassenach…watch Brianna…”

She lay her hand atop his, twining their fingers together.

“We can have our forever now, Jamie.”

His chin trembled, eyes shining with so many tears.

“This…this is a day I never thought would come,” he whispered. “Waking beside ye…holding our bairn…”

He swallowed – and his face contorted in shock.

“What is it, love?” Her voice was strong, calm. Centering.

Gasping for breath, he shook his head. “Outside?”

–

She chose a small section of wall on the side of the castle that faced the ocean. Her heart had leapt watching Jamie tenderly kiss the top of Bree’s curls, then constricted as he threw one of her shawls over his head – hiding his hair.

In the light of this new dawn, the sun shining on his face illuminated new wrinkles and lines around his mouth and eyes. Testament to how hard his life had been since their parting.

Christ – did he see the same lines and gray hairs now, his eyes searching her face?

“They’ll be looking for me.” One big hand clutched the shawl tight to his head amid the whipping wind, his other hand lost securely between both of hers. “The prison guards. The prison governor. He asked me to translate for Kerr…and I escaped yesterday when we were out cutting peats, on the moor.”

Claire massaged his hand – the one she had mended, after his ordeal at another prison, so many years ago – between hers. “Do you think they’ll send a search party out here? The boat isn’t coming for us until tonight, after dark.”

He pursed his lips, eyes darting back and forth. “I doubt they’d send anyone out here – but they’ll be watching the island today. Wi’ spyglasses and such. We canna go outside.”

“That’ll be all right – we need time, you and me. And Brianna, too.”

Jamie shrugged – that odd half-uncomfortable motion she had seen so many times, and now rejoiced at seeing yet again.

“Such a great father I am to her, and husband to you – I immediately put the both of ye in danger.”

“Stop that. Stop it right now,” she hissed. “I - *we* - both knew what to expect when we came back. We are prepared for anything. *She* is so strong, Jamie – so determined. Just like you.”

His lips cracked the tiniest of smiles. “Puir lass. She must be a right handful.”

She raised his hand to her lips, kissing each of his fingers in turn. “She is. But she’s a Fraser. I *do* have some firsthand experience, after all.”

He squeezed her hand – basking in the feel of her, the sight of her.

“It’s been so long since…” he swallowed. “Since I’ve felt a loving touch, Claire.”

She moved their joined hands to her hip, easing closer to him on the stone wall.

“I can touch you now.” Her eyes shone with promise.

His wame dropped…

“Claire,” he rasped. “I – weel. I must tell ye something.”

She straightened up a bit, preparing. So brave.

He licked suddenly dry lips. “I – I lay with another woman. Just for one night – the night before I arranged to turn myself over to the English. Two years ago now. And no – I’ll tell ye all about the rest of it, at the proper time.”

She closed her mouth, calming her breathing.

“Did you love her?” She hated how small – petty – her voice was. Of course he had had a life…

“No,” he breathed. “Look at me, Claire. Please.”

She hadn’t even realized her eyes had strayed away from him – shielding herself, perhaps. But now she returned her gaze to his – locking with the blue eyes she had seen every day in their daughter.

“She meant to comfort me. It was a kindness. I – I had been alone for so long, and I kent I’d be arrested the next day.” He swallowed, throat suddenly thick. “She helped me to forget that.”

Now Claire shifted so that they were side by side – her thighs pressing against his – on the lichen-spattered wall.

“I shared Frank’s bed, for a time after Bree was born,” she confessed. “I – we – tried to go back to the way it had been. But we couldn’t…or wouldn’t find our way back to each other. He was a fantastic father to her, Jamie – don’t doubt that. But he hadn’t truly been my husband since she was about a year old.”

He leaned his forehead – cold, clammy – against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low.

“I’m not,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s done. Your time with that other woman – that’s done. It’s over. We are here.”

“Thanks be to God,” he whispered, drawing her into a long, long kiss.

–

“Do you want to take everything in the box, Mama?”

Claire looked up from the corner of the large room, where she was folding away the blankets and cloaks they had slept on the night before. “I don’t see why not – gold coins are as good as gems, and much easier to convert.”

Jamie padded over to his daughter, crouching beside her. “May I see what’s in the box?”

She beamed up at him, opening the lid wider. “Look – gold coins, and jewels, and chains. Even some pearls, just like Mama’s necklace.”

His heart skipped. “Ye mean – the long string of pearls?”

Brianna nodded. “Yeah – she wore it all the time in Boston. It was one of the things she brought with us.” She paused. “Wait a minute – I remember now. When we were at Lallybroch, and she wore them, Auntie Jenny said something and then Mama said *you* had given them to her!”

“Aye – as a wedding present. They were yer grannie Ellen’s.”

“That’s my middle name – Ellen,” she smiled, proud.

Jamie let out a small strangled sound, then pulled Brianna tightly against him. Awkwardly she patted his back.

“Are – are you OK?”

He pulled back, frowning. “OK?”

She smiled, shaking her head – the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “I’m sorry – I forget. It means ‘all right.’ Though I don’t know why we use those letters. It’s an American thing.”

“Thank ye for explaining it to me – I’ll try to keep up wi’ ye.”

“Silly – we understand each other just fine.”

Softly he traced one hand down her temple, cheek, and chin.

“My wee miracle. Of course we do.”

–

“How much longer, Mama?”

Claire drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Jamie turned his back to face the stinging wind, tugging Brianna to stand in front of him, shielding her with his body.

“Hopefully not much longer, love – it’s long past sunset, and the moon is up. At least the water is calm.”

*A Dhia* - just the thought of being on a boat, even for a short journey, curdled Jamie’s wame. But for Claire – and especially for Brianna – and most importantly, for their life together – he’d do it. Would do anything.

Had done everything.

“Any man wi’ half a brain will no’ come wi’ a lantern, that’s too risky.” He paused. “Who did ye say the man was, again?”

“He’s someone who says he knew you from before the Rising,” Brianna piped up. “Mama knew him too.”

“Weel, I kent a lot of men before the Rising,” he murmured. “So – ”

“There!”

Jamie turned – pushing Brianna behind him – and sure enough, there it was. A lonely rowboat, a man’s heaving back facing them as he pulled and pulled and pulled at the oars.

Claire turned to gather their things – just rolls of blankets, and two leather satchels, one of her, one for Brianna. Jamie had had nothing, of course – and he and Claire had secreted the coins and jewels in their pockets for safekeeping.

Jamie walked to the edge of the rocky shore to help the man maneuver the boat for a safe landing –

“Weel – it’s good to see ye, Jamie!”

Even in the dark, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Rupert? What the devil? Ye’re alive!”

“Hi Rupert!” Brianna beamed, materializing at his side.

“Good e’en to ye, wee lass. Are ye ready for another boat trip?”

“I am!” she exclaimed, and turned to Jamie. “Da?”

If his heart had stopped at hearing Rupert MacKenzie’s voice for the first time in ten years – then Brianna’s voice calling him Da for the first time sped it up beyond measure.

He bent, carefully lifted his daughter – and then wife – into the boat, and then climbed in beside his friend, kinsman, rescuer.

“Ye owe me an explanation, man! How are ye not deid?” He took the other set of oars, helping Rupert steer the boat toward the shore.

“Now *that* is a story – but dinna fash, we’ve plenty of time now.”

Jamie looked across the boat at his wife and daughter – cuddled close against the cold. Tired, yet smiling.

“Aye,” he whispered. “That we do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/167908538284/hi-can-you-have-more-when-jamie-finds-claire-and) on tumblr

“Will ye be all right up there, *a nighean*?”

Jamie tucked the cloaks tighter around Brianna’s small shoulders as Claire smoothed back her hair on the pillow.

“I’ll be OK, *mo athair*,” she smiled sleepily. “It’s fun to be on the top!”

Jamie smiled back at his daughter – feeling the tension finally leave his shoulders.

Rupert had rowed them to Ullapool, then helped book a coach overland to Inverness. Ian had met them there – they had spent a very crowded but blissfully happy night together, crammed in a small room above a tavern, sharing news of the family and working out just exactly what they would all do, now that Jamie was a wanted man again.

Two more days in the tavern – Jamie fearful to leave the room, knowing he would be instantly recognized should his likeness appear yet again on posters. Claire and Ian had made all the arrangements for their passage to Ireland, and Brianna didn’t mind one bit the opportunity to spend some time getting to know her Da.

She was so smart – quick to learn the *Gaidhlig* words he taught her, proudly showing off the books she had brought in her satchel. Grammar, mathematics, science, Latin…books from her own time. Beautifully made, with color engravings, mentioning names of men who had not yet been born and historical events that were yet to happen…

“And here is a book on Irish and Scottish history that Mama and I bought before we came.” Curled up side by side on the large bed, propped up against the pillows, safe within the circle of Jamie’s arm, Brianna turned the shiny pages of *A Brief History of Scotland and Ireland Since 1600*, printed in Boston in the year of our Lord 1954. “The Dress Act was – um, won’t be – repealed 1782. And in Ireland, there were still supporters of Bonnie Prince Charlie, all the way up to the 1770s.”

“Does yer Mam think Ireland is the safest place, then?” Absently he kissed the curls at the crown of her head – marveling at the hair so much like his own. Still not believing that this moment was not a dream.

“Yes. For now, anyway.” Brianna thumbed forward to a section titled *An Gorta Mór.* “I learned about this in school – ”

“The great hunger?” Jamie’s brows furrowed, finger tracing down the columns of print. “*A Dhia*…these pictures…men walking down the street wi’ no flesh on their bones. Farmers dying in their crofts. And the redcoats…Why did they teach ye about this in school?”

“Because it brought many Irish immigrants to America, and then they moved to Boston. Most of my friends at school, their great-grandparents came at that time.”

Jamie turned the page, quickly scanning the terrifying words, holding his daughter a bit tighter.

“What caused it?”

“A disease in the potatoes. Don’t worry, Da, it’s almost a hundred years away – ”

“Mmphmm. I ken that, but it’s still good to know. Even if it won’t affect us directly.”

Gently he closed the book and sat back against the headboard.

“Ye must understand how strange it all is to me. To hold the future in yer hands.”

Brianna nodded. “Mama said that…that when she was here before I was born, that you and her tried to change the future. And you couldn’t.”

“Aye. We did. And we couldn’t. It’s my one big regret, Brianna – that we wasted our time, trying to do something that we both kent was near impossible.” And robbed ye of the joy of yer sister, he wanted to add – but that was something both he and Claire would tell her, when the time was right.

She pulled back a bit to meet her father’s eyes. “But you *did* change the future, Da. Mama told me that you asked her to go, when she was pregnant with me. And that if she hadn’t gone, we both would have died. At Culloden.”

Jamie stroked Brianna’s impossibly soft cheek, grounding himself against the pain of that memory. “Aye. She’s right.”

Her red brows furrowed. “So you *did* change the future, Da – you changed *my* future. And Mama’s future, because we lived. And then we changed *your* future, because you’re here now, and not in prison.”

Now he swallowed hard, and softly brought her close against her chest – so that she didn’t see the tears welling in his eyes. “Oh, lass,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You are so right. And so bonnie and clever.”

She patted his arm, still not used to how expressive he was, still learning how much he just enjoyed the simple pleasure of touch…

“Ye sure ye won’t roll about wi’ the ship, then? It’ll be a week or more to Galway, and the captain says the seas are verra rough this time of year.”

“I’ll be fine,” she huffed, yawning now. “Mama and I went on a roller coaster last summer, and it didn’t bother me at all!”

“Roller coaster?” Jamie turned to Claire now, brow arched in question.

She leaned to kiss their daughter’s forehead. “I’ll tell you all about it. Let’s take one more walk up top?”

Now Jamie kissed his daughter goodnight and, taking his wife’s hand, crossed the cabin to their door, locked it securely behind them, and followed the winding route to the deck.

The ship lurched – and Claire crashed into his arms. She gasped, startled – and then they were kissing like maniacs.

Almost a week restored to each other – they had yet to lie together. First due to exhaustion, then due to proximity to their daughter, and now due to close quarters on the ship.

Neither of them regretted it – for they rejoiced in the gift of togetherness, in the gift of their miraculous daughter.

Jamie bit Claire’s lip, and she opened her mouth even more to him.

Their mutual hunger for each other was strong – deep. But would not be satisfied until Ireland – not until they knew they were safe. Not until they could finally, *finally* relax.

Footsteps on the stairs from abovedeck – gently Jamie pulled away and resumed their trek. He paused, nodding a hello at one of the other passengers who had embarked at Inverness, and led Claire to the open air.

The coast – dark, save for a few pinpricks at Inverness – silently slid away.

Jamie leaned on the side of the ship, watching. Claire wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Supportive. Strong.

“We’ll be back.”

He threaded his fingers through hers. “Aye. Though if Brianna’s wee book is to be trusted, no’ for a long while yet.”

He turned to face her now, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear.

“What awaits us in Galway?”

She waited for a deckhand to pass before replying.

“Friends of the prince’s quartermaster – O’Sullivan. He lives in the area and is known to assist Jacobites looking for a fresh start.”

Jamie nodded, thinking. “All the planning ye did, Claire – it’s astonishing. How ye set up all the pieces for us to have a new life together.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s still so dangerous – the Penal Laws are in full force. O’Sullivan has a network, he can keep us safe. We can remain, for a time.”

Absently she touched the deep pocket inside her skirt – hiding a small fortune in gems and gold.

“I dinna ken what I can do in Ireland to provide for ye and Brianna.” His eyes were intent on hers. “But I’ll find something. Ye’ll no’ want for anything, Claire.”

She reached up to cradle his cheek. “You don’t need to do anything. We have what we took from the island. And I can always bring in income as a healer.” She paused, smiled softly. “I *did* graduate from medical school, you know.”

Jamie kissed her forehead. “Perhaps the Colonies would be our best option. For you – for me. For Brianna. For it’s her place, no? The part of the world that she knows best?”

“It is – but of course it’s completely different from the world she knew. The cities are much smaller, though she’d recognize the landmarks.” She shifted closer to Jamie against the railing, burrowing against him amid a sudden breeze. “We can stay in Galway for a time…help her adjust. Then book passage to the Colonies. Give me enough time to develop a treatment for your seasickness.”

“I’ll endure it – even if I’m puking my guts out the entire time. For Brianna, I’d be sick for months.”

She kissed his chin, delighting in the stubble. “But you don’t need to. Let me plan – and pick up some remedies in Galway. And then in a year, perhaps, we’ll sail across the ocean.”

“And we can find ourselves a farm, perhaps.” His voice was far away – dreamy. “Brianna’s wee book said that it’s a puir time for landowners in Ireland now – these laws. So we’ll make plans now, maybe convert some of the gems to sterling. And use that to establish ourselves.”

“That sounds so wonderful.” Claire’s breath hitched a bit with excitement. “To build a home of our own, Jamie.”

“Aye – it does. I – I can give ye the gift that was taken away from us.”

She tilted her chin then, and he kissed her softly – not caring about the other passengers or the crew or even the captain, steering the boat into more open waters.

“You sure you don’t mind sharing the bottom bunk?” she whispered against his mouth after a long while.

“As long as I can hold ye, and ken that Brianna is safe – I dinna mind much of anything, *mo nighean donn.*”

He kissed her again, and led her belowdecks, and they went to prepare for their first night at sea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/173640330876/hiya-is-there-any-more-of-the-finding-claire-and) on tumblr

Claire gently smoothed back the bright red curls, damp with sweat. “Do you feel well enough for some broth?”

“I think so,” Brianna sighed, stomach still heaving from seasickness. “At least I haven’t thrown up today.”

“Here.” Claire helped her daughter ease up on her elbow, and then held the wooden bowl to her lips. “Don’t drink it too fast. It won’t burn you – but it most likely won’t taste very nice.”

Brianna dutifully swallowed, nose wrinkled. But at least she was able to keep it down – much easier, now that the ship had finished passing through the storm.

“The captain assures me that it will be smooth sailing for the next two days, all the way to Galway.”

A hand darted out from the bottom bunk – palm warm and clammy as it tightened around her knee. “Sass…enach?”

“Can you hold the bowl, Bree?”

As soon as the girl nodded, Claire knelt to examine her other patient. Jamie had long ago removed his shirt, gasping for breath in the humid cabin. She watched his chest rise and fall rapidly, eyes shut tight against the nausea heaving in his belly.

He smiled – just briefly – at the feel of her hand, cool against his forehead.

“And you – are *you* up for some broth?”

“What’s in it?” His words were slow – throat and lips parched.

“I convinced the cook to boil a beef bone – with just a bit of salt. It’s more nutritious than any of the other food they’re serving on this ship, to be honest.”

Practiced fingers slid down his neck, checking his pulse – his lymph nodes – his temperature.

“Aye,” he rasped. “I’ll have some. But can ye help me sit?”

It was no small task to reach around him – breathing through her mouth, to avoid the pungent odor of stale sweat and vomit – and wrap her arms around his shoulders, pulling toward the cabin door to provide enough momentum for him to sit up. But it succeeded – and he swung his legs over the side of the bunk, knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the mattress.

She met his eyes now – red and a bit unfocused – and smiled.

“Welcome back.”

He snorted. “I want nothing more than to kiss ye. But I can wait if ye’ll feed me first?”

She kissed the tip of his nose and rose. Brianna handed her the empty bowl.

“More please?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she shut the door, Brianna dangled her own legs over the edge of her bunk – and yipped when one of Jamie’s hands closed around her ankle.

“Da!”

“I’m so sorry, *a leannan*. Seems that ye inherited my weak stomach too.”

“It’s OK – Mama told me that you would always get seasick, but I’ve never really spent any time on a ship before to know whether I had it too.”

She wiggled out of his grasp and before he knew it, she had thumped to the cabin floor, a billow of white shift and long red hair.

“Bree?”

She cocked her head at him, hands on her hips. Suddenly a bit shy. “I want to sit with you – would that be all right?”

“Of course,” he breathed, not even needing to think. “I’m sorry for the smell.”

Quickly she folded herself into the berth and sat down by his feet. “It doesn’t smell that great up there, either. I feel bad that I haven’t spent time with you, even though we’ve been on this boat for more than a week!”

“Ah, weel – ye’ll find I’m much better company when I’m on dry land.”

Brianna paused. “We’re lucky to have Mama to take care of us.”

Jamie reached out to find and squeeze his daughter’s hand. “Aye, we are. She’s saved my life many a time – patched me up too, more times than I can count.”

He turned to ruffle through the bedclothes for his shirt – but froze at the touch of Brianna’s small hand in the center of his back.

Right on top of his scars.

He inhaled and exhaled ten times as she traced the long-healed welts.

“Mama told me about your back.” Now both of her hands glided along the scars. “She said that a bad man did it to you.”

“Yes,” Jamie replied, voice low. “A very bad man.”

“I know that you were in prison, when you found us on the island. And Mama said that you had been in prison before. But I want you to know, Da – I know that you’re not a bad man.”

Jamie swallowed and turned now, to face the daughter he had prayed for every single day since he learned of her existence. The daughter he believed he would never see – never hold – never raise. Gently he took her hands – preventing her from touching the round scar on his left side, though he saw her sharp eyes dart to it immediately.

“I canna tell ye how important it is for me to know that, Brianna.” He met her eyes – his own eyes – and felt his heart leave his chest. “Ye’re old enough to understand that this time is no’ like where ye were born. Many things are dangerous here for you. For me, of course. But for you and yer Mam, too.”

“I – ”

“And dinna tell me that ye ken that, *mo chridhe*,” he interrupted. “Ye’re a smart girl – just like yer Mam. So ye’re also smart enough to understand that good men are sometimes punished for doing the right thing, when bad people are in charge. Aye?”

“Aye,” she nodded. “Mama told me that you have the scars because you were punished for something that you didn’t do.”

“She’s right. And I hope ye understand that the reason we are going to Ireland is because I never, *ever* want the same to happen to ye.”

Brianna nodded. “I understand.”

He squeezed her hands. “I promise we will have a good life together. I want to be the Da I never thought I could be for ye.”

She launched into his arms, clinging to him tight. He cradled her against him, fighting back tears.

“I used to dream of ye, Bree – every morning and every evening I would pray for ye, and yer Mam. I would think about ye, my wee bairn. Wondering if ye were safe, what ye were doing. Never…”

She patted his shoulder. “It’s OK, Da – you don’t need to tell me – ”

“I do,” he insisted. “Ye must understand – this time here, wi’ ye…it is my dream come true. The answer to my prayers.” He pulled back a bit to look at her again, and exchange a smile. “This is a day I never thought I would have. So I want to make it the best for ye.”

Three knocks at the door – then Claire entered, arms laden with a tray and two bowls of broth and a pile of what looked to be bread. Brianna thoughtfully scooted over so that she could settle between them on the berth, handing Jamie his own bowl before giving the other one to Brianna.

“Have *you* eaten, Claire?” Jamie asked, sipping slowly.

“I’m perfectly fine, Jamie.”

“No you’re not,” Brianna interjected, handing her bowl back to Claire. “Da and I know what you mean when you say that. You’ve spent so much time taking care of us – now it’s our turn to take care of you.”

Jamie met Claire’s gaze above Brianna’s head, brows raised. She sighed, and took the bowl, and began to sip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/180863710123/greetings-has-anyone-wrote-any-more-about) on tumblr

“Will you be all right in here, Bree?”

The girl’s red curls bobbed up and down furiously. “It’s so – so *grand*, Mama! Almost like a castle!”

Claire glanced around the spacious quarters that had been so generously apportioned to them – their very own suite of rooms in the [solid, ancient home of the Lynch family that was within walking distance of the Galway docks](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.galwaytourism.ie%2FpLynchs-Castle.html&t=N2VlM2JkZWRjODZhOTk1NTRkZTllYjU3YTBmMTc4MzRlYjg3MzI0OCxLSUVCdlJhZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A3P1iDiJS-o_zACFmLNnnBQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fimagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F180863710123%2Fgreetings-has-anyone-wrote-any-more-about&m=1). The Lynches were powerful in Galway’s economy and politics – and the current master of the house was a secret (if devoted) Jacobite, and a close personal friend of General O’Sullivan – with whom Jamie had served in the Rising.

Stephen Lynch was so enamored of the cause – and so honored to have been introduced to as eminent a Jacobite leader as Jamie Fraser – that he had cheerily offered all three bedrooms and two sitting rooms of the guest suite for the small family to have at their disposal, for as long as they wished. And an open door to stay for as long as they desired – be it one night or ten years.

“Ten years is a long time, Mr. Lynch,” Jamie had replied softly, slightly stunned, a steady hand on Brianna’s small shoulder. “But my wife and daughter and I – we canna express our gratitude to you.”

“It’s truly the least I could do,” Stephen had replied, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “You sacrificed so much, Mr. Fraser – you deserve to live in comfort while you decide which path to take next.”

“Did ye no’ hear the man on the way over from the docks, *a leannan*?” Jamie snuggled closer to his daughter on the divan, extending an arm to Claire. “He called it Lynch’s Castle. Said it’s been here since the fifteenth century.”

Claire sank against Jamie’s side, resting one hand on his knee.

“That sounds very old to me,” Bree mused. “Does that sound old to you?”

Jamie laughed. Claire’s heart soared.

–

“Mama?”

Claire turned in the doorway, watching Bree settle deeper into the quilt.

“Will you and Da be in the other room?”

“Yes – the one right down the hall from this one. Remember?”

“Yeah. But nobody else is coming in, right?”

“No – the servants only came to freshen up the beds. Do you remember Mr. Lynch saying that it had been a while since anyone had stayed here?”

Bree paused, but then nodded. “It’s so nice he lets us stay here.”

At Bree’s side, Jamie snorted. “What – do ye mean ye prefer staying on the ship?”

“No way!” she exclaimed. “I’m done with being seasick.”

“That makes two of us,” her father smiled. “Now – should we resume our story?”

“I’ll be down the hall,” Claire said softly. “Good night, Bree. I love you.”

“Love you Mama!”

She caught Jamie’s gaze – saw a reflection in his eyes of the fire in her heart – and slipped into the hallway.

Finally, she and Jamie would be alone tonight.

Closing the door behind her, her hands shook.

*Don’t be ridiculous, Beauchamp. He’s your *husband*, for God’s sake.*

But then she swallowed. For tonight they would embark on something different. The escape now behind them – and their entire lives before them.

Claire clenched her fists, took a deep breath, and crossed the room.

–

Sometime later, the door creaked open.

“Sassenach?” he called into the candlelight.

“Here,” came her soft reply.

Jamie swallowed, clenched his fists, and approached his wife.

She sat on the other side of the bed, back to him. Clad in her shift. When she stood and turned to face him – eyes bright – his heart nearly stopped.

“Come here,” he croaked.

And she was there – holding his hands, threading her fingers through his.

They listened to each other breathe, accompanied only by the rain pattering against the window. His thumb ghosted over the pulse and tendons on the inside of her wrist.

Suddenly she couldn’t look at him.

“Are you as scared as I am?”

“Aye,” he croaked. “But it’s just us, no? Claire – we can just sleep. There’s no need – ”

“I want you.” Now she looked up – locked eyes. “I have waited for this for more than ten years. I want you – I want this. I want what we used to have together.”

“I want more than what we used to have, Claire.” He stepped closer. Brought his forehead against hers. “Being apart from you has shown me that much. I want there to be no doubts between us. No barriers. I want us to promise to each other – to never use our years apart as an excuse to not discuss something. Because we have forever, now.”

“Yes.” Her breath was hot against his lips.

“You know that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and Bree, aye? To always keep you both safe? To always put you first?”

“I do, Jamie – I do. She does, too.”

He kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose, her forehead.

“Will ye – will ye come to bed wi’ me then?”

She pulled back. Serene.

“Yes.”

–

“Sassenach?”

She stretched against him, limbs delightfully boneless. “Hmm?”

He pulled her closer against his shoulder. “What do ye think about a farm of our own?”

Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest. “I’m not opposed to the idea. But I thought we’d discussed this – and you saw it in Bree’s history book. Catholics can’t purchase rural property in Ireland, under these backward Penal Laws.”

He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d collapsed against her a few minutes prior – and now the smile widened even further. “No’ here. In the Colonies.”

“Would you be willing to take another ocean voyage so soon?”

“Maybe not right away – we can stay here as long as we like, after all. Would be good for you and Bree to get your bearings in this time. Perhaps for a few months – wait until the spring. And from what I understand, the Colonies are a big place. We’d need to choose the one most suited to what we want.”

He turned to face her across the pillow. “What do you think?”

Her ear-splitting smile matched his own. “I think it’s a beautiful plan. But we don’t need to rush it.”

“No. We can rest. Enjoy each other. Bree can teach me her history. I can teach her chess.”

Claire kissed the tip of his nose. “How I love you.”

“How I love *you*, *mo nighean donn*,” he breathed. “You came for me. You pulled me from the hell of being alone. You saved me.”

“Sshh.” Her arms locked around him, her face buried against his shoulder. “We save each other.”

–

FIN


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